


The Forging

by Fierceawakening



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: BDSM, Gore, M/M, Spark Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 13:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierceawakening/pseuds/Fierceawakening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being recruited by Soundwave and traveling to Kaon, Starscream is granted an audience with Megatron and discovers his place in the coming war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forging

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is co-written with Meaisin Caoin.

Megatron sat on his throne, his lip plates curling in a slow silver smile. His mysterious benefactor had outdone himself this time. Megatron had asked for a flight-capable recruit; Soundwave had brought three. One was on his way to see Megatron now, in fact, responding to his leader's personal summons.

He chuckled, a slow heat spreading through his spark chamber as he thought of the one he'd called. They were all quite fetching in their way: the sleekness of their frames, the light metal they were made of. It made them fast. Difficult to catch, whether in the arena or... out of it.

 _But I am getting ahead of myself,_ Megatron thought. There would be time to think of idle pleasure later. And to take it. But his purpose must come first, and their place in it. Growling slightly, willing away the image of flickering white wings, he forced himself to focus.

Three new mechs, all of whom could fly. It was impressive. Too impressive, in fact. Drumming his fingers against the arm of his throne, he pondered it. Soundwave was obviously giving him help like that for a reason, and probably at the behest of someone powerful. Someone who, no doubt, was only interested in Megatron getting what he wanted because it got him what he wanted too.

That could be a problem. Megatron had nothing against alliances, but he and his kind were no one's pawns.

Still, the blue mech's thoroughness was impressive. The care he took might simply indicate faithful service to whoever wanted Megatron's little underground empire to thrive. However, it also might mean that Soundwave himself had become invested in ensuring that it did.

And those three... all indications showed they would be quite capable scouts and warriors, quickly able to fly in, wreak whatever havoc he had planned, and fly home to Kaon and relative safety before the authorities could organize retaliation.

He knew little from one meeting. From what he'd seen, the blue one was wary, looking intently at him, then staring back at the others in his trine, considering. That could prove irritating if he balked. Still, if he didn't, such thoughtfulness might be an asset.

He spared less thought for the black one. That one had also said nothing, his wings twitching slightly as Megatron had looked him over. Megatron doubted, however, that it was true fear. If it had been, the black mech would be worse than useless.

And although the three Seekers were no doubt close, the other two would have little use for him if he were actually afraid.

Especially that red one.

He smirked, remembering. Soundwave had said his designation was Starscream. Fitting, given the voice and the body language - the wings twitching in barely-repressed excitement as he knelt, the vocalizer hitching as he said Megatron's name.

Oh, he'd seen attraction thousands of times by now. He didn't have to touch the other's chest to know his spark was whirling in its housing. This mech had probably watched the vid-disks of every one of Megatron's fights.

Which meant that, in his mind, Megatron was already a legend.

That, too, could prove useful.

At least from this one. Most of those who fled to Kaon seeking a savior or a god were completely worthless to him. Mindless obedience - to anyone, even to Megatron - would get anyone killed in the pits, and quickly. Survival required drive and passion of one's own, not simply the fervent wish to impress someone else.

And Megatron had not ascended to save them. He'd ascended to inspire them to save themselves. To instill in them the singleminded devotion to victory that their salvation would require.

And to awaken the cruelty necessary for true devotion to that victory.

Which brought him back to this Seeker, his flicking wings, his trembling as he knelt. Starscream had done all that and yet had defied him, his optics flaring with red rage as Megatron explained that he didn't want these new Seekers fighting in the pits.

Which meant his passion wasn't just about needing a hero. No, Starscream wanted Megatron because he understood that cruelty. He had seen it in Megatron's videos and responded so strongly to it that he had come all the way here to prove that he, too, would do the same in pursuit of his own power.

And because he yearned to feel Megatron's own cruelty for himself.

Megatron had no doubt of that. He'd had mechs throw themselves at him far too many times not to know it when he saw it.

Some wanted punishment, deeming themselves unworthy and seeking absolution. Some craved sensation, longing for any touch from any mech they desired, however harsh. Some wanted intensity, needing pain because they'd rendered themselves immune to other pleasure.

And some simply craved it because they did, because some deep need in them would not let them go long without. Some felt the rhythm of power moving within them, as much a part of themselves as electricity racing through their circuitry.

A dark hand curled around empty air as the silver mech smirked again, imagining the thin metal of a white wingtip caught between his fingers, the high cries as his hand tightened around it, feeling the metal give under the pressure.

Yes, he was glad he'd sent for Starscream. Although he'd have to tread carefully with one so clearly willing to defy him, he had no doubt that he could turn his thoughts - and his actions - to other things as well.

###

Not long after the latest arena vid-disk release - a sought-after disk with a Seeker opposite Megatron - an unfamiliar blue mech had appeared in the Seekers' city of Vos. His purpose and proclamation had been simple: _Megatron seeking flight-capable combatants for pit fighting matches in Kaon._ Starscream had responded instantly and with single-minded selfishness. He'd grabbed his trine-mates' hands and dragged them forward with him, excitement seeping through his haughty demeanor. Thundercracker's skepticism and Skywarp's bewilderment were reduced to faint echoes under the roar of his own determination. And in the end they had agreed, of course; they weren't so different from him that they failed to see the value in forging a relationship with a mech like Megatron.

The delusion of Cybertron's "golden age" was beginning to crumble. Bits of gilded propaganda chipped away to expose glimpses of festering corruption beneath. The signs were small and subtle and, taken individually, could perhaps be dismissed as isolated incidents. Together they formed an inescapable pattern. And at the nexus of it all was Megatron. Whatever was brewing beneath the surface on Cyberton, he was its prime mover. He was its gravity, force, and momentum all at once. His power as inevitable and inescapable as the Universe itself. Thinking about it stoked something inside Starscream like a breeze over hot coals. He could sense the flames waiting, eager to be coaxed to life.

Starscream had spent the entire flight to Kaon thinking about Megatron's most recent vid-disk. Huge, dark hands on wing flaps, energon pooling on the ground, red optics hovering above a cruel smirk, plating peeled away, and finally a fist clenching around a dying spark. His core temperature spiked higher, and he was relieved that the rush of air through his intakes hid the sound of his cooling fans.

Kaon had no doubt been a city like any other at one point, but that label could hardly be applied to it now. It glowed orange with forges and smelting pits, pierced with the blackened spires of ruined and rebuilt structures. Kaon was a fledgling war machine, powered by the relentless will of the mech at its spark. And Starscream saw the raw potential here. Kaon was simply the proving ground. One day the rest of Cybertron would share this fate, all of its corruption and excess and frivolity burned away and replaced with purpose. Watching it happen wouldn't be enough, Starscream knew. He wanted to make it happen, to fuel it himself.

The blue mech who'd recruited them - Starscream hadn't considered his name important enough to commit to memory - finally landed and led Starscream and his trine-mates through a labyrinth of ruins and tunnels. He was silent the entire time, not even glancing back to make sure the Seekers were still following. Starscream sneered inwardly; he seemed more like an automaton than a sentient mech. If Megatron expected such behavior, a rude surprise awaited him. Starscream had come here to fight, not to obey.

Finally their guide stopped so abruptly that Skywarp nearly stumbled into his back. Thundercracker grabbed his wing and steadied him at the last second. There was a blast-proof security door at the end of this corridor; the blue mech keyed in a code and the door slid apart.

The antechamber inside was dimly lit and Starscream was instantly aware of several pairs of optics on him, watching intently. He glanced around appraisingly: medical berths, drying energon spatters, tools, spare parts. This was a repair bay. And even in the low light he could clearly discern the outlines of several other mechs. Starscream felt uneasy; those mechs outnumbered the Seekers, who were already at a disadvantage in the tightly enclosed space. He sensed similar feelings from Thundercracker and Skywarp, who stood close enough to him that their wings touched.

Starscream's unease vanished at the sound of a deep rumble from the center of the room. There, on the largest berth, another mech stirred, slowly rising from the shadows and allowing himself to be seen.

Megatron. Starscream's spark lurched bright and hot in his chest, and his intakes hitched. The blue mech was saying something, but it was light-years away. Megatron's optics flared red, glancing at Thundercracker and Skywarp in turn before settling on Starscream. Starscream met his gaze eagerly as astroseconds stretched to eternity and the rest of the room faded away, leaving only the space between them.

The blue mech spoke again, and Starscream chided himself for letting his spark get the better of his situational awareness. His trine had been formally introduced and it would be only proper for him to say something in return. Offer a gesture of fealty, perhaps. He smirked. Even loyalty, or the appearance of it, had its uses. He sank to his knees at Megatron's feet, not even attempting to hide the roar of his cooling fans as he did so. He stared up at the gladiator with a small, cryptic smile on his lips. Yes, here power yawned before him and here he knelt coiled at its feet, waiting and ready. Megatron's rough voice washed through him, full of temptation: _wear my mark. Kill for me_.

_But not in the arena._

Starscream's nose wrinkled in disgust at that. He glared up at Megatron in open contempt and defiance. He had come here to fight, to win, to claim the power he deserved. Megatron's power. That was his only purpose here and he would not be denied. His lip curled in disdain. This was not the time for outright protestation; even though Megatron was being repaired, the other mechs here were no doubt staunchly loyal to him. Starscream could be as patient as death itself when it served him, and he would wait for a better opportunity to voice his feelings on the matter. Megatron only smiled down at him with an odd, knowing glint in his optics before dismissing him and his trine-mates.

###

And now Megatron had called for him, personally. It came as a pleasant surprise; he hadn't expected a private audience so soon after their initial meeting. He fully intended to inform Megatron of his grave mistake in not allowing his trine their fair chance in the arena. Of denying Starscream the opportunity to meet him in direct combat. Then again, Starscream thought, the last Seeker he fought _had_ been rather disappointing. That would only work to his advantage, though, serving to make him look better by comparison.

As Starscream approached the door to Megatron's quarters, he once again pictured himself in that Seeker's place. He licked his lips as heat built in his spark. His wings twitched at the memory of Megatron's hands twisting, tearing... He cycled long, slow pulls of air through his intakes to regain focus. It would not do to surrender too much too quickly. Once he'd cooled down, he pressed the comm button on the door.

"You called for me, Megatron?"

The door hissed faintly as it opened. Megatron hooked a dark finger, beckoning.

"Yes, I called for you."

He stared at the Seeker in blatant appraisal. He had no reason to feign disinterest. Detachment, perhaps, if the other read too much into his expression. But he had already denied Starscream once, and if he didn't miss his guess, the Seeker was already peevish about it.

Obvious interest had its advantages. He'd already learned how Starscream reacted when he didn't get something he wanted. Now he needed to know what Starscream would do when he thought he might get it.

Besides, watching this one was rather pleasant: his sleek, aerodynamic form, the swoop of his wings, their faint twitching as their owner tried to hide excitement or apprehension or both. And Starscream was brightly colored. The bright reds and blues and stark white of his paint might well have drawn Megatron's optics even if he'd tried to demur. Sometimes going with the flow of emotion was easier than fighting it.

 _Which is no sin_ , he reflected, his spark spinning faster as the other walked toward his throne, his elegant movements obviously intended to make sure the gladiator's optics stayed locked on his frame. _It's merely a matter of keeping the control required not to drown in them._

"You were disappointed earlier. When I said you and your trine would not be fighting in the arena."

Megatron's lip curled into a slow smirk. Best to give someone this audacious the opportunity to say what was going through his processor. And catch him with it later.

"I want you to tell me why."

" _Why?_ Why _else_ would I have come here?" Starscream hissed. He stood before Megatron's throne, arms crossed over his cockpit, one hip cocked to the side. He hadn't bothered to kneel this time; he'd made a show of deference in front of Megatron's henchmechs and his own trine-mates. Here, in private, there was no need. Either way he certainly didn't see fit to kneel before a mech who refused acknowledge his worth, or who would waste his potential.

"Your little servant," Starscream continued, waving a hand in vague disgust, "Brought us to be _fighters_. If you're looking for more like _him_ , I'm so sad to inform you that you've recruited the wrong mech."

He paused again, feeling Megatron's optics boring into his frame. He'd seen the way the gladiator had watched him as he strutted into the room. Starscream was well aware of his own attractiveness and the advantages it could reap. Especially with a mech as powerful as Megatron. His plating grew warm under the intensity of that gaze and he couldn't stop his wings from fluttering.

He huffed and shifted his weight. "Let me make one thing absolutely clear to you, Megatron. The arena is Cybertron's future - any idiot can see that - and I _want_ it. _I'm_ not going to stand idly by like some foppish Autobot and count my credits while the sky falls down around me. I'll be the one _making_ the sky fall. I _will_ fight in the arena, and I _will_ kill any mech who opposes me. Or who tries to stop me."

Starscream narrowed his optics and leaned forward, processor racing with the reasons he hadn't shared. _Because I want to fight_ you. _Because I want_ your _power._ It was too early for such honesty and he preferred the upper hand offered by Megatron's obvious interest in him. Reciprocating too hastily would spoil it. He stepped back rather abruptly, suddenly worried that Megatron would feel the heat radiating from his plating or hear his fast, shallow intakes.

His heels clicked sharply as he paced back and forth in front of the throne, optics never leaving Megatron's. Energon sang through his fuel lines and his entire frame vibrated with agitation.

"You'd do well to remember that, Megatron. Because I won't ever stop."

Megatron's optics widened into bright circles of red.

Then he threw back his head and laughed.

His own reaction surprised him. Mining for energon in the bowels of the planet where no one gave a damn about you offered plenty of things to mock, whether the circumstances, the mechs who grew lazy and complacent on fuel that the miners never saw a drop of, or themselves for finding no way out of a life that kept them slaves to the very mechs who their hard work kept running.

Fighting in the arena offered the chance to mock one's enemies as well, to smirk with pleasure as a verbal barb cut deep enough to gain a physical advantage. And victory itself gave plenty of reasons to snicker over the fallen frames of enemies who'd overestimated themselves. No, Megatron's life was not without its amusements.

But to be surprised enough to really laugh, his spark whirling with it, his frame shaking with mirth? He honestly could not remember the last time that had happened.

Seeing the other mech's lip twitch in indignation, Megatron forced himself to silence, and then spoke.

"Stand idly by? Counting credits like an Autobot while the rest of us unpin the sky?" He stood up, taking a step toward the Seeker. "Is _that_ what you believe I said, Starscream?"

Dark hands reached out to seize the Seeker's wings, twisting them harshly, forcing Starscream to stop his pacing and look at Megatron.

"Do you know how many mechs answer the calls I put out for more warriors? Do you know how many of them rush here, eager to reforge themselves in the crucible of my arena? Do you know how many of them trick themselves into believing their new destiny won't end in dying?

"Or that if they do die here, it will be at my hand and no one else's?"

Megatron squeezed the wing, a slight pant cycling through his vents. "Do you really mean to tell me you are waiting for nothing more than for me to -" he stopped, an image filling his mind unbidden, a sleek, slender form lying mangled on the arena floor, white wings spattered with energon, twisted at impossible angles beneath it "- kill you?"

He growled, a low rumbling that vibrated through his frame. "You are right. This - this thing I have created, here in Kaon - is far more than a game. I have far more in mind for those who prove worthy of more than to kill and die for everyone else's amusement."

"That's why I sent Soundwave. Did you really think I need him to recruit? They come in droves, every day, fierce and desperate." His hand traced lightly over the edge of Starscream's wing. "I sent him to find a lieutenant who was worthy to stand at my side. Not to find another fighter who would dazzle the crowds for a few months until I finally tear him apart."

Slowly, he drew his hand away. "But if fighting in the pits is truly the height of your ambition, it appears I misjudged you severely."

"Fighting in the pits? No, Megatron. _Winning_ ," Starscream said. His wings shivered from Megatron's earlier rough handling. His optics had widened in shock when the gladiator grabbed him, and he whimpered at the pain that lanced into his spark. He had lifted his own hand, involuntarily, to grasp feebly at Megatron's wrist. And even when the touch had turned gentle, he kept his hand there as his spark pulsed violently in his chest.

Now Megatron lounged back on his throne looking unbearably smug. _Waiting to be killed. Dazzle for a few months_. Megatron's derisive words stung. How dare Megatron presume Starscream was weak enough to be killed so quickly. How dare Megatron assume Starscream's life was worth so little! Starscream's optics flashed red and he lunged forward. He clenched his hands on the arms of Megatron's throne and leaned over him.

"And a few months? _A few months?_ You think I'll only last that long?" Starscream hissed. At this distance there was no way he could hide the steady hum of his cooling fans, his fast harsh intakes, the heat pouring from his frame.

"If you think a few months in the pit is all I'm good for, all I'm _capable_ of, then oh yes, Megatron, you've not only _severely_ misjudged me, but made an utter fool of yourself!" Starscream's voice rose to an impassioned shriek, optics glowing hotly. "When lesser fighters have long since given up throwing themselves at you feet, _I'll_ still be standing. When this entire Primus-damned arena has crumbled down around you, _I'll_ still be standing. When Cybertron itself has been sucked dry from its own depravity, _I'll_ be flying above the wastelands of cities, laughing as I make them burn."

Starscream paused in his tirade, sucking air through his fast-spinning chest turbines in an unsuccessful attempt to cool down. He was acutely aware of his proximity to Megatron, all of a sudden, and his optics flickered. He could hear air cycling through the gladiator's intakes. And he could hear a deep rumble vibrating within that massive frame, a sound like shifting continents remaking a planet.

"And what of _you_ , Megatron?" he sneered, "What will you build when there's nothing left?"

"Enough, Starscream!" the gladiator roared, pushing the Seeker aside as he got to his feet.

"Make the world burn?" He chuckled again, his spark pulsing with bright heat. Many had come through the arena doors in Kaon thinking of rebuilding their own lives, of tearing away their own imperfections as they ripped at the frames of their enemies in the pits. But few dreamed of remaking Cybertron itself.

They would, when the time came. When it did, he would reveal why he had called them there. Why he had bid them gorge their appetite for violence in _his_ arena, only dimly aware that those battles were designed to temper them, to perfect them, to make them into an army terrible enough to raze their world and build it up again.

So far, only the best of the best could tell that there was more to the violence in Kaon than the brutishness of most of its denizens. And so far, none of them had truly kindled to the idea of it, had let it sing through their fuel lines along with the energon they won. They were violent and dangerous rabble, and he needed that.

But for now, they were still rabble.

Unlike this mech, who had stepped through his doors knowing full well that kneeling at Megatron's feet meant rising above all others.

"I never claimed you wouldn't watch Cybertron burn, Starscream. I never claimed you wouldn't be one of the ones to set it ablaze.

"Insult me if you feel you must. It is of no consequence to me at all what you think." He grabbed Starscream's wings again, twisting viciously and forcing him down. "But do not misunderstand me. And do not misunderstand your role here. Or your place.

"You swore undying loyalty to me earlier. I intend to hold you to that, Seeker. I don't give a damn whether or not you were lying." His optics gleamed as Starscream slowly fell to his knees, shrieking in protest. "Eventually, it will no longer be a lie."

Starscream's optics widened at the burst of pain that erupted through his wing joints as Megatron twisted the sensitive appendages. He had expected it, of course. His fantasies revolved around having the gladiator's full attention, and attention from a mech like Megatron meant pain. All the same, the intensity of the sensation shocked him. Not even the most vivid fantasy could have prepared Starscream for those merciless hands digging into his plating, that inexorable strength crushing down on him, and the spark-wrenching twinge of fear that Megatron _might not stop_. That Megatron's whim was the only thing separating him from a heap of scrap metal.

He felt an odd sense of relief when his knees scraped the floor. The downward pressure on his wings stopped but Megatron's hands lingered there. Starscream yelped in pain as he felt the thin plating buckle under that grip. His first instinct was to escape, to pull away or attempt to push back. He succumbed to it at first, writhing uselessly in Megatron's hands. Then he remember the vid-disk with the Seeker again, and the contempt he'd felt: _what fool would fight Megatron on his own terms, in his own way?_ Starscream inwardly berated himself for wasting energy and grew still. Megatron was stronger and there was no sense in damaging himself in a contest he was bound to lose. Other opportunities would present themselves. He would wait.

Megatron's fists clenched and unclenched into Starscream's wings, roughly kneading the sheet metal. Each throb of pain was met with an answering jolt of heat in the Seeker's spark. Starscream settled comfortably on his knees, weight resting on his heels. His entire frame vibrated with pent-up energy and his wings twitched into Megatron's hands. He stared up, optics blazing.

"I never tell lies, Megatron. My oath was merely a... conditional truth," Starscream said. He smirked, feeling far more at ease here, kneeling, than he had in his earlier rebellion. Here he could speak freely, as no words were powerful enough to break Megatron's hold on him.

"My loyalty," Starscream continued, lips quirking, "lies with -" _Power. Glory. Conquest. Superiority. Strength. "_ \- with one who can _earn_ it."

Megatron's lip curled into another silver smile. "Earn it, Starscream? You say you want to fight. And yet, I called you here alone. You've had ample opportunities to attack me. If you wanted to."

His optics flared red again as he stared at the glass adorning Starscream's chest. Beneath it, he could see a glimmer of bright light, shimmering under the amber. His spark pulsed hard in recognition, its surging energy pressing insistently against the metal of its housing.

With a deep, resonant growl, he drew back a dark hand and punched the glass. It shattered, the sharp sound filling the room for a long moment.

Megatron only had time to pant once, staring at the cracks radiating outward from where his hand had connected. Then the Seeker shrieked, throwing back his head.

The gladiator had no intention of allowing him time to recover from the blow, and his other fist collided with the glass just below the spot where the first had, sending small shards of glass tinkling to the floor.

Megatron's cooling fans kicked on loudly as his hands bent into claws, digging into the cracked glass, rending and tearing at it. He growled again, his spark wheeling madly within his chest as he ripped the glass away, dropping handfuls of it to the floor, exposing the broad sheets of metal that protected the other mech's spark.

He was right. Starscream's chestplates had parted just enough to let some of the light from his spark pour forth from its chamber in his chest. That was the light that had caught Megatron's optics, shimmering beneath the surface of the amber glass. Starscream might have hoped to hide it, to pass it off as some illusion, but his own hands had torn the truth free.

Smirking, he pressed one hand to Starscream's chestplate, heedless of the few remaining jagged pieces of glass scratching at the metal of his fingers and palm. The mild pain made his own spark crackle, tendrils of electricity reaching blindly outward, prickling at the metal of his chest plates. He frowned in concentration, and willed them to remain shut. He had more to do here before he allowed himself that pleasure.

The Seeker's chest plates burned with heat, the spark just beneath them twitching under Megatron's hand. He held it there for a long moment, its heat growing as his hand lingered against it, intense enough to pain him. He gritted his dental plates and ignored it, his optics locked on the Seeker's own.

Starscream had been completely unprepared for the force of Megatron's assault. He had watched, mesmerized, as that mighty arm pulled back. Part of him had known all along that this would happen. That this was the reason Megatron had summoned him. But none of it readied him for the impact of that black fist against his glass. For a moment he was frozen, immobilized by blinding, shattering agony. A piercing scream filled his audios and it took him several astroseconds to return to himself and realize that the sound had come from his own vocalizer.

Megatron wasted no time in smashing a second blow into his chest just below the first. Starscream cried out again, optics flashing. His fists clenched and he trembled as he fought the temptation to fall forward onto his hands and knees. No, he wouldn't show that weakness; whatever Megatron wanted to give him, he would take with pride. The pain ebbed to a sweet ache radiating outward from his chest to every sensor in his frame. He focused his optics on Megatron's faceplates. The gladiator looked deliciously smug. He stared greedily at Starscream's chest plating as he clawed his way in. Starscream felt like a possession for Megatron to explore, use, and break at his will. He shivered again and grasped weakly at Megatron's forearm.

Starscream's newly exposed chest plating burned with the frenetic energy from his spark as it surged with a powerful charge. Finally Megatron's broad, cold hand came to rest there. Starscream couldn't hold back a moan. His chest plating shifted further, inching apart, and casting blinding rays of light between Megatron's fingers. The same hand that had crushed countless sparks now rested directly over his own, threatening, claiming. He leaned forward against Megatron's hand, fingers tightening around the gladiator's forearm.

Panting hard, he attempted a retort, "I _could_ have started a fight, yes. But why bother when I would have had no clear advantage? Unlike all the _other_ mechs you bring here, I'm no fool. When I fight, it will be on _my_ terms."

Megatron's optics widened. Although Starscream's hands were made of light, delicate metal compared to his own, the grip around his wrist was deceptively strong, and the heat under his fingers only grew. He would have to finish this quickly if he didn't want a burn. Ordinarily, he wouldn't have minded. Any worthwhile battle, whether fought in the pits or in the council hall, did its damage.

But this one would take any sign of weakness he could get. He would remember it forever, reading anything into it that might justify his disobedience.

Megatron knew he could end this immediately. If Starscream's chest plates were parted wide enough, he could simply grab one of them and force it back, tearing the other's chest fully open. He'd done it often enough in the pits with stubborn enemies who refused to die.

His own chest plates thudded loudly against one another, wanting to open despite his will. What better way to finish this than to tear into him as he would a defeated enemy, only to claim him instead?

But that alone wouldn't be enough. Not yet. Not for someone who could simply tell himself that Megatron had forced his way in before proving he deserved it.

Defiance was one thing. Defiance was, in fact, the only thing that would let a mech like this Seeker hold and keep his place here, among violent criminals who wanted nothing more than to prove they could tear one another apart. To be what Megatron wanted him to be, he would have to test himself constantly - against the only one who would grant him neither mercy nor indulgence.

But violation - whether real or imagined - would only breed contempt. And that would prove corrosive, poisoning the delicate balance between his devotion and his rebellion.

To avoid that, he would have to win. He would have to do something so intense that it would shock even someone like Starscream into an unambiguous confession of submission. Then, and only then, could he take possession of the Seeker without sowing rancor that would destroy everything he was attempting to build.

"But none of this is happening on your terms," Megatron rumbled, snarling as he twisted heavily out of Starscream's grip. He flexed the dark fingers once, the only concession he would give the pain.

Then both of his arms reached out and he gripped one of the Seeker's wings, squatting down and putting the full force of his strong frame into ripping it from its mounting. His spark wheeled hard in his chest as he heard cabling tear and the wing pulled partially free.

Energon burst from the torn cabling in a purple flood. Megatron panted, his optics fixed on it as it cascaded down the white surface of the wing. His chest plates thudded again and finally slid apart, his will alone no longer able to hold them closed. The light of his spark poured from the breach, and the whirling sphere crackled audibly as tendrils of energy lanced outward from it.

" _My wing!_ " Starscream wailed. His cry dissolved into formless static as fresh pain blazed through him, swiftly immolating his arrogance. For that instant he was empty of everything except the agony Megatron gave him. His vents hitched in a sob as he felt hot rivulets of energon pouring down over his frame. Reeling from the sudden loss of fuel he wobbled unsteadily on his knees, ignoring structural damage warnings flashing through his CPU and resolutely overriding commands for forced stasis lock. All the same, he slumped forward against Megatron's leg, pressing his face to the cool plating. His good wing twitched and fluttered, while the partially severed one flopped helplessly backward.

Starscream dimmed his optics at the burst of blinding light just above him. He tilted his head up just in time to see Megatron's chest plating shift, baring his blazing spark. Lips parted, Starscream gave a soft, whimpering moan as he stared into the gladiator's blinding core, oblivious to the discomfort in his optics. Energy crackled outward from the gladiator's spark, reaching for him, and Starscream arched his back in silent response. Megatron's passion was terrifying, dangerously enticing, and it threatened to consume him completely. Starscream had never wanted anything so intensely. _This is for me and me alone,_ he thought distantly, _None of his other opponents were good enough for_ this. _None of them could earn it._

His chest plating had grown uncomfortably hot as the energy of his spark surged against it. The pain was dim against the bright, stinging throb from his damaged wing, but it was enough to send his chest plates flying apart. His spark seemed to leap as it strained for Megatron's. Starscream clawed at Megatron's thigh, painting it purple with streaks of energon, as he whimpered pleadingly, "Megatron... I _want_..."

Megatron stared at the orb whirling and spinning in front of him. Bolts of lightning streaked from it, desperate to reach him. Watching it burned his optics, but that was only right. It was his, fierce and bright, and if it it had been too dim to sear him, he would not have wanted it anyway.

He tore his gaze away, searching the darkness above that whirling light for Starscream's face. The Seeker's own optics flickered red as he struggled to keep himself online. They wavered for a moment, flared brightly, and finally their light held steady.

That was good. That was very good. A lesser mech would already have slipped into stasis lock by now.

His leg flared with pain where Starscream had clawed at it, scraping deep into the metal as he begged.

Megatron smiled, his spark surging with pride. _All that, and he wants..._

And he did. That was clear enough, from the shrill pleas filling Megatron's audios, the strong fingers biting into the plating of his leg, and the bright white seething of the Seeker's spark.

Soundwave had been right. His own instincts had been right. This mech, slight and delicate as he was, refused to surrender to the pain or the damage.

And he wasn't begging for mercy, or whimpering in servile fear, or even offering himself in a desperate attempt to make the other stop.

He had been reduced to his core, stripped of all else. And what Megatron saw now was exactly what Starscream had just confessed to: desire, pure and incandescent and all-consuming.

His spark pulsed, surging so heavily he wondered for a wild moment if it would melt its housing, leaving a white-hot hole in his chest.

He growled, drawing its energy to himself, his spark contracting into a tight ball of radiant heat.

Then he released it, the bright bolt of energy speeding from him, tearing itself free with a violence that seared his circuitry as it lanced toward the other spark in front of it.

Starscream received no warning before the searing burst of energy poured into his spark. White heat burned through his circuits. He cried out once more, lips forming the gladiator's name. The edges of his spark chamber glowed red hot under the intensity of their combined energy. Crackles of energy escaped his spark, reaching out toward Megatron of their own accord, desperate to be taken and filled and claimed. Starscream clung tighter, pressing himself against Megatron's legs as his hands greedily wandered over all the plating they could reach. He kissed along a seam in Megatron's thigh, pausing intermittently to bite. He craved this: the sensation, the physical contact, the solidness of Megatron above him.

His earlier pain was almost entirely forgotten. Now all he could feel was Megatron: his power, his cruelty, his determination, his arrogance, his passion. _For me_ , Starscream thought, a swell of pride building beneath the pleasure in his spark. _All of it._

Somehow he surfaced through the tide of emotion, returning to himself long enough to stare up into Megatron's glowing red optics. _All of it_. He panted hard, vocalizer crackling with static as he struggled to form coherent words. Finally, barely audible above the combined roar of their cooling fans, he gasped, "Megatron - please! More... I want it..." _I want everything._

Megatron could barely hear the other mech's words over the noise of the energy rushing forth from him. What he could not hear, however, he could sense through the connection forged by their linked energies.

Starscream's spark opened to him, eager, even desperate, to be filled. A maelstrom yawning its need, it widened to draw him in, its undertow seizing at the energies still pouring from him. His whole spark lurched, the whirlpool dragging at it as if to wrench it free entirely.

And through it all he felt the Seeker's emotions, a turbulence roiling through his processor: _desire-pride-defiance-need-indignation-submission-desire_. A storm at odds even with itself, it raged through him, maddening and seductive. What more was there to feel but this endless swirl of desperation, immolating himself and his partner alike in a blaze of their own making?

Gasping, he tore himself free of it, severing the link between them. He wanted this, yes. Wanted it with all the force of his suddenly doubled consciousness.

But this was about more than desire, and to surrender to it would be to lose. And Starscream knew it. He would finish it, yes... but not like this.

Panting, he drew all of the energy he could into his spark, his every circuit singing with electricity as it raced toward the orb of light inside his chest. His spark swelled, wheeling like a mad thing, the metal of its housing heating painfully as the white-hot energy grew within it.

He bellowed once and set it free, tearing toward the Seeker, hurled into the other's spark with such force it could not be seized or held or captured.

It tore into Starscream in a burst of heat and light, filling him, pouring into every hidden place. He could feel the pull, the whirlpool of energy inside Starscream's core, wide and endless and blind, desperate to catch and hold him. He snarled, clenching his dental plates, and burst through it, willing the desire twisting through his consciousness to lend it force and speed.

Starscream's passion was dangerous, yes, even to him. But if he could seize it himself and direct it, could rip through its snares with force enough that it had to respect him... it would become his weapon.

His, to wield as he saw fit, for as long as he could hold it.

Starscream's head snapped back as the new burst of energy, even more powerful than the last, consumed him. It seared its way through every circuit in his frame, leaving no part of him untouched. Only his grip on Megatron's thigh kept him from falling back under the force of it. His mouth fell open in a soundless scream. Spasms wracked his hydraulics as electricity snaked across his plating. His spark had swollen to a blinding vortex, like a star about to explode.

And even more intensely Starscream felt Megatron's power over him, possessive and dominating. He moaned helplessly then, so close to surrender. Staring into Megatron's pulsing spark, feeling the gladiator's energy coursing through him, claiming him, Starscream saw the violent fires that would remake this world. No longer able to distinguish between his own desire and Megatron's, he felt that single-minded determination to rise, to conquer, to take everything he touched. The entire galaxy yawned before him as a blank slate. It was his for the taking... theirs...

 _Mine_.

Starscream couldn't tell if Megatron had growled the word or if he simply _felt_ it. Either way it surged through him with all the force of the earlier energy burst, riding a furious tidal wave of emotion. It was too much and for an astrosecond Starscream froze, perfectly still and rigid, his faceplates an agonized grimace of pleasure. Then he couldn't hold it anymore, his spark overflowing with energy as it flooded back through his circuits in overload. His optics flickered offline as he screamed incoherently, frame jerking against Megatron. He couldn't form words, or even think of words. His processor blanked white, obliterated and replaced with Megatron's triumphant glowing optics, his dangerous smirk, that broad frame towering over him like a monolith.

Megatron stared as long as he could, as the energy burst free of Starscream in a bright, searing nova of light. He sensed it first through their connection, a wave of passion so intense that he roared as it took hold of him. For a moment, he did not know if the emotions were his own, or if he was once again feeling Starscream's, or if the distinction meant anything at all any more, and all he could feel was their mutual need, entwined and inseparable, feeding one another in an endless spiral of desire.

Then the energy itself reached him, bursting through his core in a raw blast of heat. It scoured every part of him, baptizing him in pain and flame, as he would one day remake the world he burned.

He threw back his head, still screaming, lightning crackling through his every circuit as it tore through him, his optics flickering, struggling to function as the light poured forth from every part of him. From his chest, from his open mouth, from the tiny seams in his frame, even from the cuts Starscream's tenacious fingers had gouged into his leg.

He could no longer scream. Either his vocalizer had given out from bellowing over and over, or the energy blazing through it had short-circuited something.

Undaunted, he mouthed a soundless cry of triumph as his vision finally blazed with white, pure, terrible light.

Even through the blinding haze of his overload Starscream couldn't stop a smirk as he felt Megatron give himself over to his pleasure, pleasure he had taken from the Seeker and no other. Megatron's immovable frame shook against him and he moaned louder, feeling a second surge of pleasure - Megatron's pleasure.

Finally, as the torrent of light from Megatron's spark began to subside, Starscream's optics flickered back online. He admired the drying purple streaks of energon - _my energon,_ he thought proudly - painted on Megatron's thigh. His tongue snaked out to taste and he traced along the spatters, murmuring softly in satisfaction. He made no move to close his chest plating or detach himself from Megatron. He craved this raw, open connection to Megatron's power, as it made _him_ powerful in turn. Only the strongest and brightest vessel could hold it. His smirk widened to a genuine smile as he thought of countless other mechs who had come to Megatron, perhaps fancying themselves warriors or fighters or killers, each thinking of himself greater than the others. But none of them could withstand what he had. None of them were worthy of the place he had made for himself now. None of them had wanted it enough to take it for themselves.

He stared smugly up at Megatron, basking in his self-satisfaction. He knew the answer to his question, but wanted to hear it from Megatron. "So, mightly gladiator, am I _worthy_ of more than dying for a crowd's amusement? I should think so, unless this is standard procedure with your new recruits."

Megatron's optics flared brightly as they refocused. Starscream was a mess, his chest plates still open, his wing hanging askew, energon spattered all over it. He swayed slightly, weak from the damage to his chest and wing, and more than likely exhausted from everything else besides. He would need repair soon, and recharge besides. Still, he fought valiantly to deny it, struggling to keep himself from trembling.

On top of that, the brazen little glitch was even _smirking_ at him. Like what had happened here was nothing. Like he did this sort of thing every day.

Megatron smirked back, half in amusement and half in pride. Let him gloat, if he felt like it. Megatron knew the truth, and Starscream knew that he knew it. Starscream belonged to him now, absolutely and completely. There was nothing he could hide.

"Standard procedure?" He chuckled, his spark pulsing with remembered pleasure. "I should say not."

He leaned forward, brushing his lips against one of Starscream's audio receptors as he whispered into it. "But you're fishing for answers I already gave you. Go ahead - doubt me all you want."

He opened his mouth and bit. Starscream gave a high, startled yelp that faded into a moan. His head lolled to the side, and Megatron moved down to bite at the cabling of his exposed neck. "Doubt my reasons all you want," he murmured as he bit. "It matters little enough to me."

He optics flared red as he pulled away suddenly. Starscream made a small noise of protest. Ignoring it, Megatron grabbed the Seeker's head and wrenched it up to look at him again.

"But _never again_ doubt that I have them."


End file.
